Coughs and Sneezes
by Sioux99
Summary: Sometimes a virus isn't all that's around to be caught. Gilmore/Ashton


**Coughs and Sneezes**

By Sioux

"What the hell does she expect me to do with ten more prisoners?"

"Don't know Sir, Chief Inspector Gold authorised the transfer, and it's gone through the system," the PC replied, checking his screen and bringing up the appropriate electronic signature.

Gilmore turned away, sneezed hard and then turned back to study the screen. The PC heard him mutter something under his breath then walk away. His colleague glanced at him and smiled.

"I thought he was going to bite my head off," he whispered.

"He's just feeling rough, sounds like he's going down this 'flu bug. He's starting to look like an out of season Rudolph," she replied turning back to her own screen.

Gilmore strode down the corridor and into his office.

"Gold!" he barked at the phone.

The machine bleeped and then said,

"Sorry, I do not have that name assigned to a number in your address book."

"Chief Inspector Gold," Gilmore repeated slowly, momentarily wishing for the days of the good old-fashioned key-pad telephones or more especially feeling a nostalgic longing for telephones which didn't talk back to him.

"Gold!"

"Gina, what do you want me to do with ten more prisoners?" he asked, not beating about the bush. "We're full and have been for two days!"

"Good morning Craig. And who's bed did you get out of the wrong side this morning?"

Gilmore sneezed violently twice. His head throbbed in response to the sneezing, a reaction which didn't sweeten his temper any. It also didn't help that she had unerringly decided his bad temper was due to lack of sex, the fact she was reasonably close to the mark was a further nail in the coffin.

"Very funny! We are literally putting them in three to a cell. We cannot take any more. They've already been fighting in the custody suite this morning."

"You'd better get your prisoner manifesto updated quick then. According to the system you have space and to spare."  
"What?" he said. An horrific vision of every other nick in London off-loading their unwanted human debris on him formed in his mind. He sneezed and then coughed hard at the thought, his throat hurting and his chest tightening painfully.

"It sounds like you'd better go home, don't want whatever you have spreading through the relief. I'll leave you to sort out your little accommodation problem," she replied, cutting the connection.

A wave of weakness had him grabbing the edge of his desk for support. As soon as his dizzy spell passed he sat down and hunted in his desk drawer for the packet of capsules then checked the time. He was an hour and a half early for his next dose but what the hell. He downed two of the capsules anyway figuring he couldn't possibly feel any worse than he already did.

A knock sounded on the side of his door. A young PC was looking in nervously.

"Yes?" he growled ungraciously.

"Sir, the FME says Farrell needs hospital treatment, she thinks he's fractured his hand."

Craig groaned under his breath. This was all he needed.

"Well get an ambulance and get him on his way with an escort."

"A bit of the problem there Sir, we haven't got anyone spare to take him and the ambulance controller asked if we can take him in ourselves, they're a bit short-staffed with all this 'flu going about."

Craig closed his eyes. Today was shaping up to be a doozy!

"There isn't anyone free at all who can take him to hospital?" he questioned, hoping against hope that the young constable had become brave enough to play a joke on him.

"No, Sir," the young man answered, apologetically.

"OK. Is he sober? I don't want him throwing up on me again."

"Yes, Sir. He seems to be."

"Get him ready then, I'll take him in."

"Ummm…"

"Yes?" he said, waiting for the next instalment of bad news and trying not to think about all the work he needed to do here.

"There aren't any cars free either," he almost whispered.

"Why doesn't that surprise me? Get him ready anyway, I'll take my own car."

Farrell had better be sober, he thought to himself. The horrible little weasel had already thrown up in the custody suite, in his cell and all over his uniform trousers first thing this morning. If he did it again, in his own car, he would be very displeased.

Farrell was one of those drunks who was inclined to be very maudlin when he started to sober up. With a possibly fractured hand to add to his aching head and churning stomach he was doubly bemoaning his lot. During the twenty minute journey Craig couldn't even be bothered to speak to him. He was feeling pretty lousy and knew he shouldn't have turned in for his shift that morning but he also knew they were very short staffed due to other officers being off ill. The criminal fraternity seemed to have better immune systems however, there being no concomitant decrease in any form of crime.

He parked his car in a reserved space and helped Farrell out and into reception. The receptionist had obviously been alerted to expect a prisoner plus escort at some point but, again, the news wasn't of the best.

"Sorry, you're going to have a wait a few of minutes. We're really busy but we'll deal with him as soon as we can."

Craig nodded and took Farrell to sit down.

"Can I have a coffee?" Farrell asked.

"No, they might need to give you an anaesthetic," Craig replied unsympathetically, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms.

"Ahh, come on!"

"No!" Craig said, wiping his forehead with his hand again, he was sweating and had been since early that morning.

The receptionist came across to them.

"We can see you now," she said. "Follow me."

She led the way though the busy department and into the curtained off assessment cubicles.

"Wait in here please," she said, showing them into an empty cubicle and pulling the curtain across.

Farrell hopped lightly up on the bed. Craig wiped his face again and took a deep breath, trying to banish the dizziness which was lurking around waiting to pounce on him. The curtain swished back as the male nurse asked,

"Keith Farrell?" There was a stunned silence for a second then he gasped, "Craig!"

Gilmore stared, mute, at the staff nurse, his brain unable to process the sight in front of him then the weakness struck him. A buzzing in his ears made everything sound like he was in a long, echoing tunnel, the ends of his fingers went cold and his vision began to grey out. He made an ineffectual grab for the trolley to try and stay upright. Dimly he was aware of Farrell holding onto his arm whilst the male nurse wet to catch him as his knees gave out.

"Whoa big fella!" Farrell said, hanging onto to Craig as best he could, with his one good hand.

The nurse took most of his weight and lowered him to the floor, yelling,

"'Need some help in here!"

Two more nurses rushed into the enclosed space. Between them they lifted Craig onto the recently vacated trolley.

"What happened, Luke?" The charge nurse asked, as he immediately began to undo Craig's stab vest and loosen the collar of his uniform shirt.

"Not sure, I was looking for Keith Farrell, suspected hand fracture, saw Craig then he just collapsed."

"You know him?"

"I used to work with him."

"He's been looking peaky all morning," Farrell piped up. "Been sweating like a pig all the way over here, and it's bloody cold outside."

The charge nurse pulled a face as he laid the back of his hand against Craig's forehead. He looked around to where the thermometer should be, but wasn't.

"Get a thermometer will you, Luke?" he asked, then turned to Farrell to start looking at his hand. He didn't need a medical degree to work out the Inspector had been felled by influenza.

When Luke returned with all the necessary equipment the charge nurse said,

"We'll get Mr Farrell to x-ray. Definitely looks like a fracture. Find a porter will you?"

"He's a prisoner, Dave. He should be accompanied by a police officer."

Dave looked over the top of his half glasses at Luke, then said,

"You're the nearest thing we've got to an upright copper at the moment, you'd better go with him."

Farrell and Ashton eyed each other up then Farrell asked,

"Is Gilmore going to be alright?"

"Don't know yet, we'll have to check him out," Dave replied cheerfully, putting a plastic shield on the end of the thermometer and inserting it into Craig's ear.

Farrell didn't move. Dave's eyebrow's flicked up as he studied the temperature reading, Luke, watching over his shoulder clocked the reading as well; one hundred and three point eight.

"Looks like another one with 'flu!" he remarked. "He won't be going back to work today."

"I'll ring the nick and get them to send someone over to look after Mr Farrell," Luke replied, walking away.

"Sit down Mr Farrell, this could take a little while," Dave told him.

By the time Luke came back after making his telephone calls, Craig was awake and feeling a bit sheepish as well as pretty rough.

"I'm going to recommend we admit him," Dave told Luke. "But we're going to have to wait for a bed."

"No, it's alright. I can be ill much better at home," Craig said, his voice starting to croak.

"Home is where you should have stayed for the last day or two, I think. Is there someone we can ring to take you there?" Dave asked.

Luke held his breath, waiting for the answer.

"My car's here."

"You're not driving anywhere Mr Gilmore. You'll either kill yourself or someone else."

"I can take him home," Luke said. "I should have finished my shift a couple of hours ago."

"You don't have to, Luke," Craig replied stiffly.

"Yeah, I know I don't. You still living in the same place?"

Craig shook his head slowly.

"No, I moved just after…. just after I transferred." He gave an address about ten minutes away by car.

"Mr Gilmore, I would really recommend you think carefully about this course of action," Dave said. "You need someone to look after you, you have a high temperature and need care, care you obviously haven't been getting otherwise you wouldn't be so ill now."

"I'll be fine."

"No, you won't be fine!" Dave snapped. "You're very ill. Is there someone we can call?"

"No," Craig said wearily without opening his eyes. The effort of looking about him was getting to be too much.

"Craig, please stay. This is a really nasty strain of 'flu, and this is just the beginning," Luke said quietly, his voice pleading. He reached out and took his hand and squeezed it. "Please Craig."

Gilmore was quiet for so long Dave thought he had passed out again. Finally he whispered,

"Alright, I'll stay."

"Good decision Mr Gilmore. I'll make the arrangements. Come with me Mr Farrell and we'll get your hand looked at."

Dave looked meaningfully at Luke and motioned him outside with his head.

"Won't be long, Craig," he said, pressing his hand again before he left.

Dave took him out of earshot before saying quietly,

"Keep an eye on him until we can get him up to the ward. I don't like the way that temperature is rising and his lungs sound pretty congested already. Try and find out what he's been taking, if anything."

"Right."

"You haven't got a problem looking after him, have you?"

"No," Luke replied firmly.

"Good. See if you can get him out of that uniform and get a couple of fans in there for him. He's neglected that infection and it's got a good hold of him."

Luke nodded. He knew they needed to get Craig's temperature down before it started causing additional problems.

Persuading Craig to get undressed for him was an interesting exercise in professionalism for both of them, especially as Craig required a lot of help. Eventually though, he was dressed in a light hospital robe, laid back on the trolley and covered by a blanket. Luke manoeuvred a large fan into the cubicle and set it going. Craig was drifting a little but the cool air wafting over him seemed to help.

"How long have you been nursing?" he asked quietly.

"About five years now. Policing sort of lost it's interest for me."

Craig nodded slightly to show he understood, then he seemed to come awake.

"Where's Farrell?"

"In x-ray. He seems quite concerned about you. Is he a friend?"

"No, he just seems to end up in my nick on a D and D a lot of the time," Craig replied dryly.

Luke smiled then asked,

"When did you make Inspector?"

"Inspector?" Craig questioned.

"Yes, when did you get promoted? Craig?" Luke could almost see Craig's brain starting to shut down due to his fever.

"Need to let Inspector Gold know."

"I've already let them know, Craig. They're sending someone over. It's OK."

"Need to get him back." Craig made an heroic effort to get off the trolley, Luke easily pushed him back down. The bigger man was as weak as a kitten.

"Craig, listen to me! You don't need to do anything except get well again. Craig, can you hear me?"

Craig's head moved restlessly on the pillow in the grip of some fever world. Luke checked his temperature again and saw it was up two points. He was coughing more as well, spasms of pain crossing his face every time he did so. Luke found himself praying it was bronchitis and not pneumonia. He raised the head of the trolley bed a little, to try and ease his breathing then went in search of supplies. Sponging down patients with high temperatures was something that was frowned on these days, but Luke could still remember how soothing it had been to him when he had been ill as a child.

Several hours later Dave slipped quietly back into the cubicle to find Luke gently wiping Craig's face, neck and upper chest with a wrung-out cloth.

"You still here? You should have been off home hours ago," he said quietly.

"I didn't want to leave him until they've found him a bed."

"How's he doing?" Dave asked softly.

"His temperature has stabilised but it's still one hundred and four and his chest is worse."

Dave didn't need to be told that, he could hear the rattles, wheezes and rales without the aid of his stethoscope.

"I've found him a bed in ward six. Think we could do with an x-ray on that chest first, though. I'll get the doctor to have a quick look at him. Can you get him ready please?"

Luke stood up and began to pull up the trolley sides so Craig couldn't roll off.

"When did you last work with him?" Dave asked curiously.

"A few years ago. He was the best sergeant I've ever worked with."

Dave waited. Luke was a good nurse and took his vocation seriously but from the way he was behaving towards this patient Dave was willing to bet they had been a little more than just colleagues. Luke didn't seem to want to continue so Dave didn't press the issue.

Three days later Craig was sleeping peacefully for the first time when his regular visitor arrived.

Craig knew someone had been with him a lot of the time, soothing him and helping him but he was sure that the image of Luke, dressed in the uniform of a male nurse, that his imagination kept supplying must be a product of some fluey dream.

Before he went to Craig's bedside Luke bumped into one of the nurses on the ward.

"Hi Luke. He's a lot better today," she said, without being asked.

He smiled his thanks as he made his way to Craig's bedside. There was only one other person in the four bed side ward and he wasn't awake so Luke felt safe in taking Craig's hand. For the first time he noticed silver strands of hair shining amongst the dark ones. The shadows under his eyes looked much improved though, as did his chapped lips. His breathing was a lot easier too. It was a few minutes before Luke realised his patient was looking back at him. He smiled down at Craig.

"I thought I was dreaming you," Craig said at last.

"Dream or nightmare?"

"How long have I been here?" he asked, still sounding a little groggy.

"About three days. You were pretty ill when you brought Farrell in."

"Where is he?"

"Potted up and out on bail."

Craig nodded.

"Have you been here all the time?"

"Not all the time."

Craig's hand increased the pressure briefly then relaxed. Gradually his eyes flickered shut as he succumbed to healing sleep again.

Quickly checking the time, Craig poured most of the oil off the fish, put both salmon steaks onto a warm plate and put them on the hob. He put chopped shallots into the pan and began to fry them gently. A bottle of decent red wine and a bottle of brandy were standing on the work surface next to the hob, waiting to become a rich sauce for the fish. Another pan was gently steaming petit pois whilst the mashed sweet potato was keeping warm in the oven. He added some of the wine to the onions and reduced the liquid then added in a good splash of brandy, not allowing it to flame. He took the pan off the heat when he heard the doorbell.

Luke was standing on his doorstep holding a carrier bag in one hand and a sports bag in the other. Craig stood back to let him enter.

"That smells good," Luke said, handing the carrier bag to Craig and putting his sports bag down in the hall.

"It's almost ready. What do you want to drink?"

"Have you got a beer? I'm really thirsty."

Craig went back into the kitchen to get a beer out of the fridge, Luke following more slowly. The food smelt delicious but Luke found his appetite was deserting him rapidly.

Craig half poured a can out into a large glass, handing both can and glass to Luke. Luke took a few gulps which nearly emptied then glass then put both down on the work surface and put his face up to be kissed. It was a long leisurely kiss, a prelude, a promise of things to come. Even as he was being drawn into the mood, some part of Craig's subconscious noticed the unnatural heat radiating from Luke's skin. He drew back and touched his face with the back of his hand. His cheeks and forehead were burning hot and his face was flushed.

"Are you alright?" he asked, frowning.

"Anticipation," Luke replied. "You promised me your body tonight and I'm looking forward to it!"

Craig smiled, leaning down to kiss his heated forehead, moving his lips down towards Luke's firm lips one tantalising inch at a time. Luke put his arms around Craig's neck putting all his heart and soul into their kisses, pressing his body close to Craig's.

"Mmm, will the food keep?" he murmured against Craig's lips.

"No, it'll spoil," Craig whispered into his mouth.

Luke made a sound of disappointment.

"Waiting will make it all the sweeter," Craig said.

"I'm not very hungry," Luke replied.

Taking one last open-mouthed kiss Craig said,

"I am!"

He grinned down at the sight of a flushed and slightly panting Luke in the circle of his arms, hugged him close then set him back on his feet. Quickly he put out his hand to steady him as Luke swayed alarmingly, his eyes closing.

"Hey!"

"What?" Luke asked, as few seconds later. He shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs but only succeeded in making it ache more.

"You're not well!" Craig said.

Luke moaned and let his head fall forward against Craig's breast.

"No! I'm not ill! I don't want to be ill tonight. I want to take you to bed and make love with you all night!" he wailed which changed to a cough.

"I think the 'flu has got to you first, my love," Craig said, smiling down at his crestfallen expression.

"Craig!"

"I think I'd better take you to bed," Craig replied seriously, looking searchingly over his face.  
Luke's expression brightened immediately.

"And get some paracetamol and fluids into you and let you try to get some sleep."

Luke's head dropped back down to his breast, disappointment showing in every defeated line of his body.

Craig knew how bad he must be feeling. It was only a couple of weeks ago when he'd ended up in hospital with a dose of the same and bronchitis to boot.

"Come on, you can sleep in my bed."

"Wanted to be doing more than sleeping," Luke muttered sounding like a rebellious child, as he was helped up to bed.

"So did I, cariad. Oh so did I!" Craig replied.

He undressed Luke as respectfully as the other man had undressed him when he was ill in hospital. He went downstairs and poured out a large glass of orange juice, one of water and made-up a hot lemon and honey drink which was supposed to contain everything which might make him feel slightly better. Craig put the whole lot onto a tray, along with a glass of wine for himself, and took it upstairs.

"Thought you'd run away," Luke said as he re-entered the bedroom. Craig gave him a dirty look but said nothing.

Luke giggled softly when he saw the look on Craig's face. "I stopped running away from what I am a long time ago," he said in voice of certainty.

"'Very glad to hear it. I think you'd have a problem running away in your condition at the moment though."

Luke wrinkled his nose a little then said quietly,

"PC Luke Ashton was a wanker at times. Staff nurse Luke Ashton is a lot better, believe me."

Craig smiled as he put the tray down on the bedside table then handed the hot drink to Luke. He took a sip of the hot liquid.

"I know it's early but will you get into bed with me?"

Craig considered the request for a second then got undressed quickly, intending to leave his underwear on until he saw the look on Luke's face, so the T-shirt and the boxers joined the heap of clothes on the floor. He slid across and took Luke into his arms, letting him lean against his body as he finished the hot drink. Looking down into the depths of the cup he asked,

"This isn't all there's going to be for us, is it?"

"What do you mean?" he asked as he idly stoked Luke's shoulder.

"I mean we can have this first night again, can't we? I've been looking forward to this since we decided to make a big occasion of it."

"Do you really think I'd give up on us because you're too sick to do much? You don't have a very high opinion of me, do you?"

Luke looked down shamefaced.

"Has someone else done that to you?" Craig asked curiously.

He nodded. "I'd been out with a couple of mates for a curry. Went to a club, picked up this bloke, we had a few drinks. Back to his, I went down with food poisoning he threw me out, sick as a dog, at two in the morning and refused to speak to me the next time I saw him."

Craig dropped a kiss onto the top of his head before saying,

"God Luke, you don't half pick 'em!"

Luke pulled Craig's arms around him, like a blanket and settled back against his chest. Craig was enjoying the closeness and the sensation of togetherness when Luke said,

"This feels really nice."

Luke felt his frame move as Craig laughed.

"What?"

"I was just thinking the same thing! Now that's worrying when you're picking up my thoughts this early on."

Luke smiled and tightened his hold on Craig.

"What did you have in mind for us tonight, before I spoilt it?"

"It's not your fault, stop blaming yourself."

Luke turned a gleaming, cheeky eye in his direction.

"Oh, you are starting to feel better! Well first of all I was going to fill you with good food. Starting off with a wilted salad of rocket, sweet cherry tomatoes and parmesan shavings drizzled with a little of my own dressing and quickly fried scallops with truffle oil. Then onto pan fried salmon steaks, finished with red wine and brandy with sweet mash and steamed petit pois, that's peas to you…."

He stopped speaking with an 'ooof' as Luke dug him in the ribs with his elbow.

"Go on," his patient ordered.

"Then, to finish, a perfectly ripened sliver of brie and one of stilton, with biscuits and a glass of port."

"Mmmm, now I'm so stuffed I can't move, what next?"

"Then I was going to take you into the lounge for coffee and brandy, maybe with a kiss or two to keep me going." Craig suited action to word and kissed Luke's cheek and then lightly, his lips. "Then I'd be watching you drinking the brandy, seeing your lips caress the rim of the glass, watching your throat as you swallow, tasting it mingling in your mouth with the flavour of the coffee." Craig felt Luke's breathing pattern change. His accent seeming to throb sensuously, he lowered his voice and continued speaking.

"By then you'd be so hot with the wine you'd be taking off your sweater and I could get at your skin." Craig slowly let his hand slide down Luke's arm and brought his hand towards his lips. "I'd be kissing your throat, your shoulders down to your chest, swirling my tongue around your nipples…." In between the words Craig was kissing the palm of Luke's hand, letting his tongue wet the surface of his skin, nipping on the fleshy base of his thumb, swiping his tongue along each digit. "You'd be so hard, so ready for me I'd take you in my mouth," here Craig suckled on Luke's middle finger. A whimper forced itself out from between Luke's parted lips. Craig let his tongue seek out the nail bed then sucked hard on the finger in his mouth, moving his mouth up and down on the wet finger. He smiled around his mouthful of flesh as Luke's back arched in response to the stimulation. Craig let his imagination carry him along with the vision he was weaving, he moaned, the vibration travelling along Luke's hand and arm. He let his other arm dip and finger a nipple. Luke's head was thrown back and digging into his shoulder, his mouth open and panting, his eyes firmly closed, wrapped up completely in Craig's fantasyland. Stealthily Craig let his hand dip under the duvet, stroking, caressing. It didn't take very long before Luke's face frowned in pained pleasure as he buried his face in Craig's neck, his body responding helplessly to Craig's words and touch.

Afterwards, Luke fell into an exhausted sleep. Craig stayed awake watching over him letting his mind weave more erotic fantasies for when Luke was well enough to really enjoy what his body and imagination could conjure.


End file.
